FOR SALE: 1957 Sedan. This (adjective) car is in a/an (adjective) condition. It was formerly owned by a/an (adjective) school teacher who always drove it (adverb). There is a/an (adjective) (noun) in the back seat and a chrome (noun) on the hood. It has a/an (adjective) paint job, (adjective) tires, and the back opens out into a/an (adjective) (noun). Will consider taking slightly used (noun) in trade.
LOST: In the vicinity of (geographical location), a/an (adjective) French poodle with (adjective) hair and a/an (adjective) tail. It answers to the name of (name of person in room) and when last seen was carrying a/an (noun) in its mouth. A/An (adjective) reward is offered.
Millie said...
FOR SALE: 1957 Sedan. This gum-cracking and reeks of perfume car is in a mossy condition. It was formerly owned by an eyeball-resembling school teacher who always drove it log-gnawingly. There is a cerulean hyper hypo in the back seat and a chrome buttercup on the hood. It has a forgotten in the backyard paint job, booger-flavored tires, and the back opens out into a twitterpated Windex sprayer. Will consider taking slightly used bustier in trade.
LOST: In the vicinity of Fishguts, Florida, a squidgy French poodle with Edward-obsessed hair and a hypochondriac tail. It answers to the name of Liplock Lucinda and when last seen was carrying the Soup Man in its mouth. A shoves-toes-in-mouth reward is offered.
Mr. J said... (welcome, by the way!)
FOR SALE: 1957 Sedan. This salty car is in a sour condition. It was formerly owned by an immense school teacher who always drove it creepily. There are many anklebiters in the back seat and a chrome rugrat on the hood. It has a piquant paint job, microscopic tires, and the back opens out into a smooth munchkin. Will consider taking slightly used potato farmer in trade.
LOST: In the vicinity of Pigs' Knuckle, Arkansas, a furry French poodle with sweltering hair and a forlorn tail. It answers to the name of Annie Oakley and when last seen was carrying a griot in its mouth. A frigid reward is offered.
Thorny Tree Lady said...
FOR SALE: 1957 Sedan. This uncanny car is in a chocolate covered condition. It was formerly owned by a fanciful school teacher who always drove it childishly. There is a dead ringer in dire need of aspirin in the back seat and a chrome chocolate chip cookie on the hood. It has an exhausted paint job, hideous tires, and the back opens out into an exuberant, narcissistic Oscar winner. Will consider taking slightly used tax-return check in trade.
LOST: In the vicinity of Studio 8H in Rockafeller Center, a cockamamie French poodle with funny as a kick in the crotch hair and an intrusive tail. It answers to the name of Millie, the Flip-Flopping Blogger, and when last seen was carrying a headache that's lasted three weeks in its mouth. A death defying reward is offered.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
George Washington
George Washington, the Father of our (noun), was a very (adjective) man. When George was a/an (adjective) boy, he took his (noun) and chopped down his father's favorite cherry (noun). "(Exclamation)!" said his father. "Who has (verb, past tense) my (noun)?" Then he saw George holding a sharp (noun) in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little (noun)." His father smiled and patted little George on the (noun). "You are a very honest (noun)," he said, "and someday you may become the first (occupation) of the United States."
Suzanne said...
George Washington, the Father of our candy, was a very pink man. When George was a red boy, he took his heart and chopped down his father's favorite cherry chocolate. "Wahoo!" said his father. "Who ran my kiss?" Then he saw George holding a sharp hug in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little flower." His father smiled and patted little George on the candlelight. "You are very honest lingerie," he said, "and someday you may become the first Cupid of the United States."
Thorny Tree Lady said...
George Washington, the Father of our Valentine's Day card, was a very putrid man. When George was an underachieving boy, he took his Caps Lock key and chopped down his father's favorite cherry hot air balloon. "Holy Schnikeies!" said his father. "Who has flatulated my Snuggie?" Then he saw George holding a sharp ShamWOW towel in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little moldy laundry." His father smiled and patted little George on the David Cassidy poster. "You are a very honest nasty-Millie-hating-comment-leaving loser," he said, "and someday you may become the first grave digger of the United States."
Dalene said...
George Washington, the Father of our homework stalling fourth grader, was a very lazy-butt man. When George was a narcoleptic boy, he took his rusted pencil sharpener and chopped down his father's favorite cherry dunce cap. "Holy Hannah Hermaphrodite!" said his father. "Who has flunked my whiney-mouthed jr. high student?" Then he saw George holding a sharp slacker dude in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little parent-teacher conference." His father smiled and patted little George on the truant officer. "You are a very honest report card," he said, "and someday you may become the first tired third-grade teacher of the United States."
Millie said...
George Washington, the Father of our home neutering kit, was a very cranky man. When George was an immobile boy, he took his nevernude and chopped down his father's favorite cherry mirror-loving parakeet. "For crying out loud!" said his father. "Who has skulked my opthomalogist?" Then he saw George holding a sharp shrimp in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little scissors-happy hairdresser." His father smiled and patted little George on the dust mite biscuit. "You are a very honest shredder," he said, "and someday you may become the first elevator mechanic of the United States."
Suzanne said...
George Washington, the Father of our candy, was a very pink man. When George was a red boy, he took his heart and chopped down his father's favorite cherry chocolate. "Wahoo!" said his father. "Who ran my kiss?" Then he saw George holding a sharp hug in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little flower." His father smiled and patted little George on the candlelight. "You are very honest lingerie," he said, "and someday you may become the first Cupid of the United States."
Thorny Tree Lady said...
George Washington, the Father of our Valentine's Day card, was a very putrid man. When George was an underachieving boy, he took his Caps Lock key and chopped down his father's favorite cherry hot air balloon. "Holy Schnikeies!" said his father. "Who has flatulated my Snuggie?" Then he saw George holding a sharp ShamWOW towel in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little moldy laundry." His father smiled and patted little George on the David Cassidy poster. "You are a very honest nasty-Millie-hating-comment-leaving loser," he said, "and someday you may become the first grave digger of the United States."
Dalene said...
George Washington, the Father of our homework stalling fourth grader, was a very lazy-butt man. When George was a narcoleptic boy, he took his rusted pencil sharpener and chopped down his father's favorite cherry dunce cap. "Holy Hannah Hermaphrodite!" said his father. "Who has flunked my whiney-mouthed jr. high student?" Then he saw George holding a sharp slacker dude in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little parent-teacher conference." His father smiled and patted little George on the truant officer. "You are a very honest report card," he said, "and someday you may become the first tired third-grade teacher of the United States."
Millie said...
George Washington, the Father of our home neutering kit, was a very cranky man. When George was an immobile boy, he took his nevernude and chopped down his father's favorite cherry mirror-loving parakeet. "For crying out loud!" said his father. "Who has skulked my opthomalogist?" Then he saw George holding a sharp shrimp in his hand. "Father," said George. I cannot tell a lie. I did it with my little scissors-happy hairdresser." His father smiled and patted little George on the dust mite biscuit. "You are a very honest shredder," he said, "and someday you may become the first elevator mechanic of the United States."
Friday, February 13, 2009
A Page from a Girl's Diary
This is a/an (adjective) entry in (name of girl in room)'s diary.
Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those (adjective) eyes, it makes my (noun) go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have (plural noun) in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the (noun) when I was standing next to him in the (noun). I just had to hear his (noun) again, so I called his (verb ending in ING) machine and left a/an (adjective) message. I hope he doesn't recognize my (noun). He is such a/an (adjective) (noun), dear Diary. His name is (name of boy in room), and I live in hope that someday he will realize how (adjective) I would be for him, and that I am the (noun) he has always been looking for.
Thorny Tree Lady said...
This is a entry in Miley Cyrus' diary.
Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those chocolicious eyes, it makes my webcam go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have American Idol Top 36 participants in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the bleu cheese wheel when I was standing next to him in the unbalanced checkbook. I just had to hear his rejected Facebook friend request again, so I called his contemplating machine and left a cheddarific message. I hope he doesn't recognize my Ritz cracker. He is such a better-than-sex broken nail, dear Diary. His name is Cris Angel, Mind Freak, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how smashing I would be for him, and that I am the run-down cell phone battery he has always been looking for.
Millie said...
This is a bitten in half by a shark entry in Syrupy Sybil's diary.
Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those printer toner-horfing eyes, it makes my Neighbor Kid go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have empty threats in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the AC/DC album when I was standing next to him in the Cornballer. I just had to hear his former lover of Ellen Degeneres again, so I called his tiptoeing machine and left a spasmodic message. I hope he doesn't recognize my clotheshorse 4-year-old. He is such a hamster-shaving angry bee, dear Diary. His name is Jason Bateman, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how magnanimous I would be for him, and that I am the squid he has always been looking for.
Dalene said...
This is a verbally adroit entry in Penelope's diary.
Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those decrepit eyes, it makes my ice cream scoop go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have jaded used vacuum salesmen in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the freshly washed socks when I was standing next to him in the geriatric ward. I just had to hear his lint trap again, so I called his procrastinating machine and left an astute message. I hope he doesn't recognize my mud pie. He is such a masochistic rain gutter, dear Diary. His name is Wiley Coyote, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how scantily clad I would be for him, and that I am the used book of mad libs he has always been looking for.
Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those (adjective) eyes, it makes my (noun) go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have (plural noun) in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the (noun) when I was standing next to him in the (noun). I just had to hear his (noun) again, so I called his (verb ending in ING) machine and left a/an (adjective) message. I hope he doesn't recognize my (noun). He is such a/an (adjective) (noun), dear Diary. His name is (name of boy in room), and I live in hope that someday he will realize how (adjective) I would be for him, and that I am the (noun) he has always been looking for.
Thorny Tree Lady said...
This is a entry in Miley Cyrus' diary.
Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those chocolicious eyes, it makes my webcam go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have American Idol Top 36 participants in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the bleu cheese wheel when I was standing next to him in the unbalanced checkbook. I just had to hear his rejected Facebook friend request again, so I called his contemplating machine and left a cheddarific message. I hope he doesn't recognize my Ritz cracker. He is such a better-than-sex broken nail, dear Diary. His name is Cris Angel, Mind Freak, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how smashing I would be for him, and that I am the run-down cell phone battery he has always been looking for.
Millie said...
This is a bitten in half by a shark entry in Syrupy Sybil's diary.
Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those printer toner-horfing eyes, it makes my Neighbor Kid go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have empty threats in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the AC/DC album when I was standing next to him in the Cornballer. I just had to hear his former lover of Ellen Degeneres again, so I called his tiptoeing machine and left a spasmodic message. I hope he doesn't recognize my clotheshorse 4-year-old. He is such a hamster-shaving angry bee, dear Diary. His name is Jason Bateman, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how magnanimous I would be for him, and that I am the squid he has always been looking for.
Dalene said...
This is a verbally adroit entry in Penelope's diary.
Dear Diary: Today I saw him again. When he looks at me with those decrepit eyes, it makes my ice cream scoop go pitter-pat, and I feel as if I have jaded used vacuum salesmen in my stomach. I think he likes me because he asked me for the freshly washed socks when I was standing next to him in the geriatric ward. I just had to hear his lint trap again, so I called his procrastinating machine and left an astute message. I hope he doesn't recognize my mud pie. He is such a masochistic rain gutter, dear Diary. His name is Wiley Coyote, and I live in hope that someday he will realize how scantily clad I would be for him, and that I am the used book of mad libs he has always been looking for.
Friday, February 6, 2009
A (Secret) Letter From an Admirer
Dear Miss (name of woman in room),
You may not recall my (noun), but I met you at the (adjective) cocktail party given by our (adjective) friend, (name of person in room). We had a/an (adjective) talk about (adjective) (plural noun), and I was impressed by your (adjective) conversation and your grasp of the (adjective) situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your (adjective) eyes, your (adjective) little chin, and your (adjective) teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming (adjective), I was fascinated by your (adjective) walk and by your (adjective) figure.
I hope I made a/an (adjective) impression, and that we can get together for a nice (noun) next week.
(adverb) yours,
(Name of man in room)
Klin said...
Dear Miss Katie Couric,
You may not recall my desk, but I met you at the sloppy cocktail party given by our mad friend, His Royal Highness. We had a chunky talk about gorgeous persons, and I was impressed by your blue conversation and your grasp of the orange situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your cut-up eyes, your new little chin, and your musty teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming painted, I was fascinated by your freakin' walk and by your tired figure.
I hope I made a down impression, and that we can get together for a nice chair next week.
Stunningly yours,
Brad Pitt
Thorny Tree Lady said...
Dear Miss Angelina Jolie,
You may not recall my Wii Fit Balance Board, but I met you at the innoucuous cocktail party given by our preppy friend, my third grade teacher, Mrs. McCallup. We had a celebratory talk about gelatinous unpopped popcorn kernels at the bottom of a microwave popcorn bag, and I was impressed by your mushy conversation and your grasp of the overactive situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your imaginary eyes, your hallucinatory little chin, and your hideous teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming all-American, I was fascinated by your Comcastic walk and by your infantile figure.
I hope I made a banjo-rific impression, and that we can get together for a nice broken breast pump next week.
Mind-numbingly yours,
George Lucas
Natalie said...
Dear Miss Martha Vandella,
You may not recall my cherry tomato, but I met you at the loco in the cabesa cocktail party given by our fishnet stockings-wearing friend, Heaven Lee Shades. We had a pantsed regularly talk about green and frondlike annoying low-battery cell phone noises, and I was impressed by your totally tripped out conversation and your grasp of the Dora-hating situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your bird-mocking eyes, your skeevy little chin, and your accidentally ate a napkin teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming smacked purple, I was fascinated by your booger-examining walk and by your retching figure.
I hope I made a yellow impression, and that we can get together for a nice disgruntled postal worker next week.
Pompously yours,
Ricky Retardo
Wynne said...
Dear Miss Betty Boop,
You may not recall my cheese whiz, but I met you at the purplish-black cocktail party given by our brackish friend, Jasper. We had a chunky talk about rigid lice, and I was impressed by your sparkly conversation and your grasp of the furry situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your hard eyes, your transparent little chin, and your rancid teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming sour, I was fascinated by your discordant walk and by your explosive figure.
I hope I made a flatulent impression, and that we can get together for a nice canned corn next week.
Like-an-Egyptian yours,
Pecka the Imaginary Man
You may not recall my (noun), but I met you at the (adjective) cocktail party given by our (adjective) friend, (name of person in room). We had a/an (adjective) talk about (adjective) (plural noun), and I was impressed by your (adjective) conversation and your grasp of the (adjective) situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your (adjective) eyes, your (adjective) little chin, and your (adjective) teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming (adjective), I was fascinated by your (adjective) walk and by your (adjective) figure.
I hope I made a/an (adjective) impression, and that we can get together for a nice (noun) next week.
(adverb) yours,
(Name of man in room)
Klin said...
Dear Miss Katie Couric,
You may not recall my desk, but I met you at the sloppy cocktail party given by our mad friend, His Royal Highness. We had a chunky talk about gorgeous persons, and I was impressed by your blue conversation and your grasp of the orange situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your cut-up eyes, your new little chin, and your musty teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming painted, I was fascinated by your freakin' walk and by your tired figure.
I hope I made a down impression, and that we can get together for a nice chair next week.
Stunningly yours,
Brad Pitt
Thorny Tree Lady said...
Dear Miss Angelina Jolie,
You may not recall my Wii Fit Balance Board, but I met you at the innoucuous cocktail party given by our preppy friend, my third grade teacher, Mrs. McCallup. We had a celebratory talk about gelatinous unpopped popcorn kernels at the bottom of a microwave popcorn bag, and I was impressed by your mushy conversation and your grasp of the overactive situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your imaginary eyes, your hallucinatory little chin, and your hideous teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming all-American, I was fascinated by your Comcastic walk and by your infantile figure.
I hope I made a banjo-rific impression, and that we can get together for a nice broken breast pump next week.
Mind-numbingly yours,
George Lucas
Natalie said...
Dear Miss Martha Vandella,
You may not recall my cherry tomato, but I met you at the loco in the cabesa cocktail party given by our fishnet stockings-wearing friend, Heaven Lee Shades. We had a pantsed regularly talk about green and frondlike annoying low-battery cell phone noises, and I was impressed by your totally tripped out conversation and your grasp of the Dora-hating situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your bird-mocking eyes, your skeevy little chin, and your accidentally ate a napkin teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming smacked purple, I was fascinated by your booger-examining walk and by your retching figure.
I hope I made a yellow impression, and that we can get together for a nice disgruntled postal worker next week.
Pompously yours,
Ricky Retardo
Wynne said...
Dear Miss Betty Boop,
You may not recall my cheese whiz, but I met you at the purplish-black cocktail party given by our brackish friend, Jasper. We had a chunky talk about rigid lice, and I was impressed by your sparkly conversation and your grasp of the furry situation. Also, I was very much attracted by your hard eyes, your transparent little chin, and your rancid teeth. If you'll pardon me for seeming sour, I was fascinated by your discordant walk and by your explosive figure.
I hope I made a flatulent impression, and that we can get together for a nice canned corn next week.
Like-an-Egyptian yours,
Pecka the Imaginary Man
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